A power of sorts
by theirontardis
Summary: Aisling Caverly is just an ordinary girl. Well, at first sight anyway. She's running for her life, so when she moves into 221C,Sherlock can't help but be intrigues by this mysterious girl. What is her secret, and what will happen when her past comes back to haunt her? Sorry, I suck at summaries. This is my first fanfiction, so be nice. rating might change in later chapters.
1. prologue

Prologue

I knocked on the door to 221B Baker Street, holding a newspaper ad in my hands. Rain soaked my thin jacket as I stood on the wet pavement of the sidewalk. Warm light poured out from Speed's, the little store beside the apartment. The sound of an unlocking deadbolt brings me out of my daydream of warm coffee and a sandwich. The door swung open to reveal and elderly lady, dressed in a floral dress standing in the doorframe.

"Hello," I said "I'm here about the ad…um… for the apartment?"

She gave me a look of surprise before she ushered me inside.

"Of course dear, of course! If you'll follow me, I'll show you the flat…I'm the landlady, Mrs. Hudson by the way." she grabbed a key from the wall inside a door, her apartment, I'm guessed, and lead me down a short hallway. She unlocked and opened the only door down the little hall, and showed me down a staircase to the basement. The apartment smelt of mildew and mold. The walls had dried water stains and the carpet was an ugly yellow colour that smelt of cat urine. The bathroom and the kitchen was fully functioning, as well as the washer and dryer. The bedroom had a sliding wall panel that stuck for a door, that lead out to the living room. There was a fireplace on the far end of the living room. With a little work, this apartment could be amazing.

Mrs. Hudson stood off a little to the side, waiting for my answer on the apartment. she looked nervous, like she's waiting for a hasty getaway on my part. I gave her a smile.

"I think I'll take it." I said, in a cheerful way.

A smile broke across her face and she ushered me back upstairs to do the paperwork. She lead me to her apartment, where she offered me tea and scones for the happy occasion. As I sipped from the little pink mug she handed me full of tea, I signed form after form. Finally, I'm finished and I handed her both the paperwork with the money and the bright pink mug. She smiled at me and read over my work as she put the mug in the sink. She looked over at me with a frown. She said: "you didn't put down where you work dear, you do have a job don't you?"

"well…no not yet. But I'll get one! Seeing as I just moved here, It will take a while but I'll get one" I said in desperation. I really needed this apartment. I couldn't go back on the streets where they could be looking for me. at least here I'm not in sight of the CCTV cameras anymore.

I can't go back.

"I'm sorry dear, but I can't let you stay here unless you have a job." She looked guilty and sad. She goes to tear the paper up, but I stopped her at the last second. I'd really hoped It didn't need to come to this. I looked her straight in the eye and said, with a voice strong and clear; "you will let me stay in the apartment 221C" . Pain speared through my head, but it was worth it.

Her eyes went blank and dazed for a second, then she snapped out of it, and said with a cheerful smile, "well, dear, it seems that's all that needs to be done! Here's the keys to your new flat!" Keys in hand, I let her usher me out the door and I made my way back to 221C. my new apartment.

Guilt gnaws at my insides. I really didn't want to use my powers for evil, but I really needed this apartment. it was my last hope. my last hope for a somewhat normal life.

But I'm never going to get that am I?

* * *

authors note;

Hello! thanks for reading my first ever fanfiction. please bear with me, i promise you it will pick up speed in the later chapters.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

_I'm being escorted down a sterile, white hallway. Armed guards dressed in dark green cameo surround me. My white sneakers squeak on the tiled floor. Doors show up at random intervals. I'm scared. My palms are sweaty, and my knees fell just about ready to give out from under me. My hands are handcuffed together. We reach the end of the eerily silent hallway. One of my guards opens the door and pushes me inside and locks the door behind me. I start banging on the door, yelling for them to come back and let me out. I don't want to be in this room. I slowly turn back around to see a middle aged man standing behind me with a needle in his hand. He has a grim smile on his face. I know what he wants to do and I won't let him. Letting them play with my genes was a bad idea. I shouldn't have agreed to this. My eyes dart from side to side, looking for a way out or away to defend myself. A white counter stands behind the man. The top is covered with medical instruments like scalpels and hypodermic needles. A metal table stands in front of it. To the left of the room is a barred window, and the right has a single desk and chair. Shit. The man is almost in reaching distance. My powers aren't strong enough yet to do any damage to him, so I make a decision. I launch myself at him, knocking the needle full of amber liquid out of his hand. I punch him in the temple, disorienting him. I jump up and run to the counter, grab a scalpel, and spin around. The man is back on his feet, needle in hand. Suddenly, soldiers crowd the room. They come at me like a stampede, but I won't go down without a fight. However long it lasts. I swing, and thrust and cut at the soldiers, barely making a dent. Finally, they disarm me. They haul me onto the cold metal table and hold me there while the middle aged man sticks the needle in my arm. I cry out in pain. Hot, liquid agony coursed through my veins._

_Changing me._

I woke in a cold sweat. The dampness of the apartment wasn't helping either. Shivering, I made my way to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got ready to face the day. I sat on the worn mattress left in the bedroom and counted my money. All of it was in Canadian currency, since that was the last place I'd been. I had 1500$ Canadian. Definitely not enough for all the stuff I'd need for the apartment. a bed and frame would cost almost 900$ let alone a sofa, book case, coffee and kitchen table.

Guess I needed to go to the bank.

Damn it.

Sighing, I stood and made my way out of the apartment, grabbing my blue canvas messenger bag on the way. As I locked my door, I heard voices coming down the other set of stairs. Both male, one extremely lower than the other. They put me on edge. The low baritone was saying "…Oh don't be so stupid John, I know you're capable of some cognitive ability." He sounded annoyed yet fond at same time. "Then who did it Sherlock?" the other voice-John?- asked. "Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock answered. "it was the youngest brother, he was jealous of his older brother for having the perfect life. Wife, children, a high paying job, whilst he was stuck in a nine to five office job, in a run-down flat, with nothing to live for. The parents only had eyes for their eldest son, so he felt neglected. That's why he murdered both his parents and his brother. He only wanted to be accepted"

Wow. Damn he was good. Which is why I needed to stay away from him.

Who knows what he'd be able to uncover about me.

I quickly made my way for the door, hoping for a quick getaway, but alas, I had no luck. No sooner had I stepped out from behind the hall wall, did they round on me.

"Oh, hello!" one of the men – John? – said. "You must be the new tenant Mrs. Hudson told us about."

The other man just stood there staring at me. tall and lean, this man gave off an air of superiority that made me uneasy. His bright blue eyes seemed to see right through me, as if seeing into my mind and picking out all of my secrets.

God I sounded like a mystery novel.

"Um, yeah I am" I answered John. "I'm Aisling Caverly"

"It's nice to meet you Aisling; I'm John Watson, and this." He said pointing to the other man, "is Sherlock Holmes"

"Nice to meet you." I said

"And you," finally he speaks! His low, sonorous baritone, sounded like something that could melt chocolate. I bet woman everywhere would swoon at the sound.

Clearing my throat, I spoke; "right. Well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go."

We said our goodbyes and I exited the building. I would feel eyes on the back of my neck until I was out of sight.

I caught a cab to the bank of England. Paying the cabbie with what little cash I had left, I then made my way into the bank.

The colossal building stood tall and menacing. I stepped through the large doors, and into the grand foyer of the bank. Golden beams arched over the ceiling. Cherubs were painted between the arches. Marble flooring and mahogany accents made the bank seem extremely expensive. People milled around me as I made my way to the counter.

The woman behind the counter had dark hair, hazel eyes and light brown skin. She smiled warmly to me. "Hello, how may I help you today?"

Gearing myself up for the unwelcome pain, I said, "I would like to make a withdrawal please."

She typed something into her computer, and then reached out her hand. "I need your card"

"I don't have one" I stated.

Frowning, she retracted her hand. "I'm sorry, but to make a withdrawal, you would need a card for this bank. To get an account, you can head over to those desks over there," she pointed to the west side of the bank, where many desks were set up, "and talk to one of the employees there." She smiled and turned back to her computer.

I caught her eye, and said, in a clear steady voice, "You will let me make a withdrawal of five thousand pounds without an account." My head pounded in agony.

Dull eyes, soon followed by her acceptance were my reward. She typed in the amount, gathered the cash and handed it to me in less than five minutes. Smiling, she bid me a good day and went on with her job. I left the bank silently. Stepping out into the cool, September air, I took a deep breath. Forcing your will onto someone was not an easy task.

"How did you do it?"

Startled out of my thoughts, I turned around to see Sherlock Holmes standing behind me. did he follow me? damn.

Trying for nonchalance, I retorted; "How did I do what?"

My heart beat a mile a minute as he stepped closer and stared down at me. His piercing gaze probed me. I looked back defiantly. He started to talk. "Your name is Aisling Caverly; you're about 19, 20 years old. You have recently gone on the run, maybe from an over controlling boyfriend, most likely from a gang or organisation. Your parents are dead and you have no siblings. You have no mobile, so you're afraid of being tracked. Obviously, you have some sort of power, but how you came across it, I don't know. You have nightmares, going by the dark bags under your eyes. You're scared." He looked away to stare at my hands. He grabbed one and examined it. Purple bruises covered my skin. I tugged my hand from his grip and covered them with my coat sleeves. "What are you running from miss. Caverly?" I stepped away from him. I felt tears prickle my eyes, but I pushed the feeling away and slapped him in the face. Then I said, "That was amazing. How did you know all that? You couldn't have looked me up, there's nothing on me on the web."

"And why's that miss. Caverly?" Sherlock said, massaging his cheek. There was a gleam in his eye that was worrying.

"Like I'd tell you." I said.

"I could help you, miss. Caverly" He insisted.

I gave an ugly laugh. "No one can help me."

I started to turn and make my way down the stone steps of the bank when he grabbed my arm and turned me back around to face him. I pushed him, mentally away.

Well that was new.

He landed on his back three feet away. My head felt like hell was living inside it. I could feel blood dripping out for my nose. I turned and ran. Down a street, then another. Suddenly I was lost. I collapsed against a red brick wall in and alley and clutched my head. Tears were falling down my face. Broken sobs broke out from my throat. My legs ached from running. At least my nose had stopped bleeding. I was tired and weak from blood loss. The sky had gone from mid-afternoon sunshine to almost twilight darkness.

I started to get back up and find my way back to the apartment, when two harsh sounding voices came from behind me. "An' where d'ya think you're goin' love?" I tensed. I slowly turned around to face the two men. The tallest of the men was bald and beefy. The other was lanky and hairy. Both had creepy smiles plastered on their faces. They came at me, trying to get a hold of my arms. One of them succeeded. Weak from the run and the blood loss I couldn't have put up much of a fight anyway, but they knocked a large stone across my head, looking to knock me unconscious. They laughed as I went down. My head hurt too much to use my powers. If I did I might pass out from the pain anyway. With what little strength I had left, I tried to keep them off of me. Clawing and scratching, I managed to draw blood from both of them, witch only made them fight me harder. One of them, probably the beefy one, punched me on the head, making my head spin. I went limp for a second, but it was enough. They had me pinned. As the lanky one held me down, the taller of the men, started to undress me. this is not happening… I thought, struggling against my restraints. My sight began to tunnel. My efforts got weaker and weaker, and my vision blurred. I heard a shout as if from far away. Suddenly, no was holding me down, but I couldn't move anyway. I'd lost control of my limbs. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and running feet brought me back to reality for a millisecond before I succumbed to my injuries. The feeling of being carried was the last thing I felt before falling into darkness.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Soft murmuring was the first thing I heard when I slowly started to wake. My head pounded to the beat of my heart. Something heavy and warm lay on top of me, and my head was cradled by something soft. Slowly, as I came to my senses, my panic began to rise. I tried to pry my eyes open but quickly shut them with a hiss as bright light filtered through. Trying again, with caution this time, I opened my eyes.

A warm fire was burning cheerfully in the fireplace, giving the room a warm glow. Two chairs, one a lazy boy, the other being an overstuffed gray leather seat, sat before the fire. Wallflower wallpaper covered the walls. A bright yellow painted smiley face stood out the most, capturing my curiosity. A clued board was stabbed to the wall above the mantel piece, just above a human skull. I was lying on a couch covered with multiple blankets. Voices could be heard coming from the next room.

"…Sherlock we can't just send her back to her flat, for Gods sakes you found her unconscious in an alley!" That was Johns voice, I recognised.

"And why not John? She's fine, you made sure of that. I don't see the point of keeping her in our flat when she has a perfectly unused one down stairs."

"God Sherlock, is that all she is to you? A puzzle? Get what you want and send her on her way without a second glance to the consequences? You've got her blood, the least you can do is not throw her out of the flat while she's still knocked out!" He sounded angry. But then again, so was I. He fucking took my blood without asking.

The sound of running water and the clanging of ceramic dishes cut off Sherlock's reply. Their shadows melded and separated, making it look as if they were in some sort of weird dance. The water shut off, making the room eerily silent.

Then Sherlock's voice broke the silence; "John can you get me another sample?"

John's angry sigh could be heard. "No Sherlock I am not getting you another sample. She is a human being and deserves to be treated as such." Sherlock's heavy sigh of irritation and footsteps soon followed. I closed my eyes when he entered the living room. He sat down beside me on the couch and started preparing my arm for blood removal. Just as he was to inject the needle, I said with a voice barely containing my anger,

"Take that sample and I will make you feel as if you were being skinned from head to foot" Menace being highly evident. I open my eyes and stare him down. His surprise was quickly masked by a look of indifference.

"Oh, I highly doubt you could, Miss Caverly." He said. I gave him an incredulous look.

"Do you want to bet?" I sat up, jerking my arm out of his grasp.

He smirked. "Oh very much so Miss Caverly."

"I don't think you understand me." I said, "I can cause you debilitating pain. I can ruin you, make you go insane, kill you even, if I wanted. If you take my blood, I have no qualms with doing any of those." Anger and determination rushed through my veins, making me see red.

I had to get out before I hurt someone.

I stood up on unsteady legs and made my way to the open door that led to the stair way. I glanced over to John, who carried a first aid kit in his hands. He looked confused, but determined. He stepped in front of me before I'd made my leave and said, "You were unconscious when Sherlock found you Aisling. You had blood all over you and when he took your pulse, he said it was almost non-existent. Now, if you would please take a seat, I would like to look you over before you head off to your flat." His voice was pleasant and joyful, but I sensed that if I refused, I'd be forced to do so against my will.

Sighing, I hung my head and nodded my consent. He lead me over to the lazy boy recliner that sat beside the roaring fire and started making preparations for checking me over. "There's no point," I started. "I'm fine now."

"Ah, but you weren't fine earlier, " John added with a smile. He put a thermometer in my mouth, which stopped me from commenting. After a minute, he pulled it back out and, after checking the temperature, nodded approvingly. Sherlock was oddly silent. I'd only known him less than a day and I already knew he wasn't normally this silent. I turned my head and saw him sitting on the couch staring at me.

_Well that's not creepy_… I thought. Sherlock startled. He stared more intently at me. His eyes were a strange mix between blue, gray and green. John moved into our line of vision, blocking our view of each other.

Then John grabbed my wrist.

Suddenly, I was inside his head. Thoughts and emotions invaded my mind. Pictures of war and blood. Guns shooting and shouts were heard. Visions of Sherlock and him running side by side chasing someone. The clinic he works at. Sherlock talking. Mrs. Hudson cleaning. All these thoughts rushed through my head, clearing a path of destruction that was pain. John and I burst apart, he fell over the coffee table and landed half on, half off the couch, whist I'd fallen off the chair and sat slumped against the bookshelf.

Sharp pain stabbed my head, making my eyes water. I curled up around myself, shaking. "What the fuck was that?" John asked. I glanced up, with eyes half open, to see John staring at me – always staring – in confusion, anger and pain. I raised myself with shaking arms to a sitting position against the bookshelf. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I felt tears spring to my eyes. I suppressed a sob and blinked away the imminent waterworks.

Clearing my throat, I quietly said, "I don't know." I lowered my head into my hands. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry for what, exactly?" Sherlock said from right beside me. I jumped nearly ten feet in the air. "What did you do, Aisling?" anger, fear and tiredness washed through me. I struggled to control myself as I replied;

"What makes you think I did something?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously you did do something, or else you wouldn't have been apologizing. Now what did you do?"

I rolled my eyes back. "And why should I tell you if I did or didn't do this 'something' that you are referring to? What makes you think I'd trust you, Mr. Holmes?"

"Shall we go through the list then? Firstly, I found you unconscious in an alleyway, and instead of taking you to the hospital, I brought you here. I'd noticed that you had only your bag with you when you came to look at your flat last night – oh don't give me that look, I always notice – and figured, 'either she's poor and homeless or she's running from someone'. Seeing as you were able to pay Mrs. Hudson the full amount, up front, I quickly ruled out poor and homeless. Now that left me with running. Now, it would seem that if a person was running, they would want to stay away from hospitals and policemen, since they ask too many questions. Secondly, I have not called the police after seeing what had happened between you and John. Thirdly, I had given you my word that I could and would help you, and I never go back on my word. Ask John. Fourthly, I have no intention of revealing your secret to anyone. Especially the imbeciles that work at new Scotland Yard. Now, what did you do?"

He gave me a look that told me I could trust him, but I didn't know if I should. This man was intense and smart and borderline psychotic, maybe sociopathic, which, in my experience was not a good combo. He said he'd try to help, but what would he do if he found out about what I could do, what I did, to others. But on the other hand, he didn't seem the type to judge someone by what they'd done in the past. Maybe I was just being naïve, but I felt like I could trust him – to an extent.

"Ok," I said. "What do you want to know?"


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Tell me everything" Sherlock said. "Start from the beginning."

I took a deep breath, tucked my legs under me on the red lazy boy I was now sitting in and began; "When I was eighteen, I applied for a job at a huge pharmaceutical company named Psycale in Canada. I was at the top of my class in high school, scoring a 99 percent In science. Of course, they hired me."

"Why would

They hire a student fresh out of high school?" Sherlock asked his tone urgent.

"Are you going to let me finish the story, or not?" He huffed waving me on with his hand. I rolled my eyes at him and continued. "Like I was saying, they hired me right out of high school. They gave me a scholarship to the best science school in the country, Concordia University. It had been funded by Psycale. They gave me a contract to sign – which I did – and shipped me off. It took me a year and a half to finish the four year program."

I took the mug of tea that John was holding down to me. I noticed he avoided touching my hand as I grabbed the mug. Anger and regret surfaced momentarily but I quickly drowned it out. John sat down on the overstuffed couch after handing Sherlock his mug of tea. Sherlock sat with his elbows on his knees, chin on the back of his hands, his bright pale eyes fixed on me, analysing me. I wondered what he saw. A scared girl with a mysterious past, something to be picked at and have its truths revealed, or a damaged woman with strange powers on the run from the law. I averted my gaze and continued on with my story.

"They put me to work in their labs, trying to unlock some hidden gene that could open up the 93 of the brain that wasn't being used. I found it."

John gasped loudly. Even Sherlock seemed impressed.

"Do you know what this could do for the medical world? This could revolutionize th –"

"Stop. Just… stop." I sighed and rubbed my hand down my face. "That's exactly the kind of bullshit they fed me when I discovered it. They took my research and my discovery and stamped their name on it. It's a good thing the medical board rejected the proposal for human experiments, because this – my discovery - would have caused widespread panic. Unable to let the whole thing go they did the experiment on me. They sedated me as I slept and when I'd came to, they had me strapped down to a table and had an IV at the ready. They'd been waiting for me to wake up to ask me to let them do the experiment on me. Like I had a choice. As if they'd take my no as an answer. So I said yes, deciding that if they were going to do it, I might as well make it as painless as possible. It took about a month for the effects to start showing, and during that time they locked me up like a prisoner. Giving me food through a slit in the door." I swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of my throat.

"The first power that showed was my telekinesis. I woke up one day to the furniture of my cell floating about a foot off the ground. They tested on me, trying to make the powers stronger. They poked and prodded me until I was black and blue and yet, they continued. During this time, I learnt to control the power, to harness it. Next came the illusions. I simply had to imagine a situation to get them to see it. It took a while but I somehow managed to get a guard to let me out of the cell. I never factored in the fact that some people might be immune to certain powers. I got caught trying to escape that hell hole. They tortured me, with each new serum, the pain that had been non-existent at the beginning, got worse and worse until I was crippled by it. I was escorted to and from every room by armed guards.

Then came the persuasion. Sherlock, you've seen this one. All I have to do is look into their eyes, say a command and force my will on people and they do it. This was how I finally got out. The pain had gotten a little better; at least it didn't cripple me. I persuaded my guards to let me out and take me to the entrance. No one questioned it as we walked down the corridors up to the ground level and out the door. As I ran, I imagined them walking back inside and forgetting about me. it worked up until I got to the fence when the alarm sounded. Dogs were let out and armed men came running out of the building. I barely made it out alive, but somehow I did. I stayed low key, making money where I could, mostly in small diners as a waitress. When I finally made enough money to get a plane ticket, they had caught up with me. I didn't know where I was going but I knew I had to get away. So I got on a plane and flew away.

I got off in France. But apparently, they knew where I was going. I – I'm not proud of what I did, but it had to be done. I made them think someone else was me. They took her, instead of me. And every day since, I have thought of her. Of how scared she must have been." I brushed my tears away angrily. "Anyway, I made it out of France, and I moved around as much as I could, changing my name everywhere I went. When I made it to London, I finally decided to get a place to stay for a while, longer than three, four months, anyway. And here I am. You know the rest." I looked down at my hands in my lap.

Sherlock and John were silent. Sherlock was thinking furiously and John looked stricken.

"Why didn't you go to your family?"

"When I started showing signs of powers, Psycale had called my family and told them I'd died in a freak lab fire. I don't know why they believed them since lab fires are easily put out and contained, but they did. I tried to go to them, but I was too late. I figured I might as well leave them out of this." My eyes burned from unshed tears, but I blinked them away and cleared my throat.

"What were the powers you used on John and I?"

"I don't know. Their new, I guess."

"Can you do them again?"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You want me to hurt you and do whatever it was I'd done to John?"

He rolled his eyes and said in and annoyed voice, "Yes, I do."

"You're crazy!" I said incredulously.

"Maybe. Nevertheless, I want you to attempt to do them on me."

I stared at him. I glanced over at John, who shrugged and relaxed back into the couch. He said "It'll serve him right. Go ahead."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Fine…. Come here then."

Sherlock stepped closer and crouched In front of the lazy boy. I went to touch his arm, but at the last moment, I slapped him across the face.

"Do you think I enjoy this? Not knowing what I can do, knowing that at any time I can kill someone with my mind?"

Sherlock rubbed his now red cheek thoughtfully. His eyes trailed me as I stood up, grabbed my bag from beside the couch, and started for the door.

With a hand on the door knob, I turned back and looked at both John and Sherlock, who had moved to sit back down in the grey chair. "Look, I'm sorry I hit you. And thank you for all the help, really. But-" loud footsteps pounding up the flight of stairs cut me off. I turned to the two men with accusing eyes and said "who did you call?" John fumbled with his words, looking shocked. "I – no one, we didn't call-" I cut him off. "WHO DID YOU CALL?!" At that moment, the door was pushed open roughly, and men in black suits each holding guns started into the room. I backed up into the room, not turning away from them. They all pointed their guns at me. My heart beat a mile a minute. I could feel the panic starting to set in. my palms were sweaty, my breathing was shallow and tears were starting to well up in my eyes again. Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight. I could hear John and Sherlock protesting against the intrusion, but my focus wasn't on them, I was staring at the man talking on the intercom in his ear. he must be the one in charge I thought to myself. Sherlock's voice penetrated through my haze of concentration and said "yes, Miss Caverly, he is the one in charge, but I would advise you do nothing at the moment. That would only give them the incentive to take you. Well, attempt to anyway." In my surprise, I turned my back on the men to stare at the dark haired man I shock.

That's when all hell broke loose.

The men surged forward, trying to grab me. my instincts kicked in and suddenly all the men were on the floor moaning in pain. Sherlock and john had been thrown back. John was half on the couch, half off and Sherlock was on his back behind the mahogany desk.

Arms circled my waist and covered my mouth. I screamed against the hand on my mouth and struggled against my restraints. I stepped on the man's instep, making him curse, but he didn't release me. he started to drag me backwards. I saw Sherlock struggling to get up, using the desk as a support. His eyes landed on me just as I was pulled out the door. Ok, I told myself. No one's here to save you. So save yourself. I geared myself up to the pain and the guilt of what I was going to do. I opened my eyes and reached back with my mind to the man dragging me down the stairs. Then I pulled all that I felt in his mind. He stopped on the steps and stood still. Then he collapsed, bringing me with him. He convulsed and rolled down the remaining steps. I barely got out of his grip before he fell. The man in the dark uniform rolled onto his back and laid still. I sat shaking on the stairs for what seemed like an hour. I couldn't stop staring at the man and what I had done to him. After a while, I felt a blanket being dropped on my shoulders. I looked up to see John standing behind me on the steps, holding out his hand. he didn't seem scared of what I could do. Still, I covered my hand with the blanket before taking his hand. he frowned as he helped up the stairs and back into the apartment.

All the men in the dark uniforms were gone. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, his hands under his chin in a prayer position. What the hell is he doing? I thought. "I am thinking miss, Caverly." Sherlock answered.

"ok what the hell are you doing?" I asked. "How can you know what I'm thinking? That is the second time tonight you've answered my questions without me asking them."

Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at me. "I could ask you the same thing."

Confused, I said, "Yeah you could, but last time I checked you weren't the one with crazy mind powers. So please explain to me why the hell you can tell what I'm thinking?"

**Does this explain anything?** Sherlock's voice penetrated my mind.

What the hell?

_How in the hell are you doing that?_ I cautiously asked back in my mind.

**I don't know yet.** Was his answer.

Angrily, I said out loud, "Wow, what help you are." I rubbed my hand down my face. "Sorry" I added quietly.

Then I noticed something. Why didn't I have a migraine yet? All of the other powers nearly incapacitated me, so why not this one? Odd.

"So, shall we continue where we left off before my brother's men so rudely interrupted us?" Sherlock said.

I gave him a confused look as I sat down in the red lounge chair.

"Brother?"

"Yes brother." He rolled his eyes. "Now as I was saying-"

"not now Sherlock" John cut Sherlock off. "Its past midnight, we're all exhausted and suffering from injuries. I think we can continue this tomorrow." John handed me my bag. From where it came from, I don't know, but I took it gratefully.

"John-"

"No Sherlock." John said with a warning glance.

Sherlock huffed and turned his attention back to me. "Shall we continue this tomorrow then?" he asked grudgingly. I had to stifle a smile.

"Sure. Tomorrow." Was all I said. To be honest, I wasn't sure I was going to be here tomorrow. I'd been here a day and I was already being attacked for god sakes!

I turned to leave, with John escorting me to the door. Before I passed the threshold though, I turned back to Sherlock and asked; "By the way, where did the men go?"

He smirked as he turned his back to me and faced the window. "Out the window."


End file.
